Through the Looking Glass
by Tanya Reed
Summary: Is the madness real or something she dresses in like an old, familiar pair of pajamas? Maybe it's a little bit of both.
I've only seen seasons 1-3 so far (I have 4 on order), but Jane's been bugging me to write this story, so I finally gave in.

 _"_ _I invented this mad, glamourous sister and went around really annoying everybody, and, do you know, I could get away with anything when I was my crazy twin, Jane."_ -Jane Christie, Coupling, "The End of the Line"

 _"Sometimes I can almost hear the terrible voices of his inner torment, echoing up from the great black emptiness of his heart. I'm alone. Nobody wants me. I'm a sad, boring little person who has to be the centre of attention every second of the day just to drown out the screaming choirs of my own insanity, and I'll never find a man of my own."_ -Jane Christie, Coupling, "The Girl with One Heart"

XXX

Jane had spent a good part of her life wanting to be the girl in the mirror. She was a pleasant looking young woman, pretty in her own way. She was never sad, never lonely. There was always a smile on her face, and nothing ever got beneath her skin because there was a wall of glass to keep all the pain of life from touching her.

As a child, Jane had stared at the little girl in the mirror—so like her and so unlike her—for hours. Her relatives had thought her vain; they hadn't realized she was trying to figure out how to pass the glass and climb inside. She was sure she and that other Jane would be great friends, and then she would be happy, too.

Jane had envied that other Jane so much that, as she grew older, she started to pretend to be her. At first, it was in her room, by herself. She'd have conversations with herself and answer as Mirror Jane. Once, when she was sixteen, her parents had dragged her on a horrid vacation where the only other teenagers were rude and stuck up. Tired of their jeers, she'd become Jane from the Glass, her crazy twin, and she'd never had so much fun in her life. She could say or do anything and get away with it because Mad Jane carried her glass with her. Nothing got through.

Now in her thirties, Jane still talked to the girl in the mirror. In the mornings, they had conversations as Jane got ready for work. They'd be naked, and Jane in the Glass would be happy while Jane in the Real World would want to go back to bed and sleep her life away.

On a morning just like any other, Jane stood in front of the mirror. She'd just come out of the shower, and the towel on top of her head was the only thing she was wearing. She studied the other Jane, who seemed to be smiling at her warmly.

"Good morning, Jane."

She'd been through this so many times, she wasn't exactly sure which of them said it. Of course, she knew the other Jane wasn't real. She wasn't quite as mad as everyone believed her to be. Even so, Mirror Jane felt real in a way nothing else had in very a long time.

"I'm sad," she admitted to her reflection. "I'm lonely. I'm unloveable. No one likes me. When I speak my own words, nobody listens. I want to be loved. I want somebody to love me. I'm a selfish, self-centred, stupid little person, and nothing I ever say will matter."

Her reflection listened attentively. Jane felt tears come to her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. One escaped, and she watched it slowly slide down her cheek. When she reached up to brush it away, she touched the glass instead of her own face. Mirror Jane wasn't supposed to be sad; it wasn't right.

Jane swallowed and forced her expression to go neutral.

"I'm going to be you again today," she said softly. Crazy. Clueless. Obnoxious. A woman whose emotions didn't penetrate the surface. She knew what her friends thought of Mirror Jane. Not one of them really liked her, but it was so much easier to be disliked for being someone you weren't than for someone you were. She'd rather be known as a crazy bitch and be tolerated, a woman who could say and do as she pleased, than be a perfectly ordinary woman who cried at night because she was so lonely. Sometimes pretending she was oblivious actually made her so, and words bounced off of her like raindrops.

Maybe if she pretended long enough and hard enough, one day she'd wake up in the glass, having traded places with the other Jane, and never have to feel anything ever again.

"Thank you," she added.

She turned from the mirror and slowly dressed, putting on her clothing like armour. She felt her sadness receding as the glass formed around her. It wasn't long before she started feeling lighter. By the time she was finished, all of her genuine feelings were locked away in a hard little ball in her stomach. Some of them would leak out, they always did, but, for the most part, she'd be able to ignore them until she was alone. With others, she'd be able to be Jane of the Glass completely, and no one would know or care. It was complete freedom, and, if part of herself told her that she was lonely because of the other Jane, she ignored it.

Once she was dressed, she dried and combed her hair, humming a little song to herself. She was sure the other Jane watched her with approval.

When she was ready and looked perfect for the part she wanted to play, she smiled in the mirror.

"You're gorgeous," she said. "Everyone loves you. Now, let's go direct some traffic."

With that, she left the bathroom and sad, frumpy Jane behind.


End file.
